


Roegner’s oath

by Namesonboats (Viken2592)



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Age Difference, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Death, F/M, Free Verse, Pregnancy, Sapphic verse, Sonnets, verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-02 04:38:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17257706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viken2592/pseuds/Namesonboats
Summary: Emhyr/Duny’s and Pavettas story told in verse, from Duny’s rescue of Roegner to Pavetta’s death near the Sedna trench.





	Roegner’s oath

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much [Opheliathemoth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpheliaTheMoth/pseuds/OpheliaTheMoth) for being the first to read my attempts to write poetry, and for encouraging me to post this fic! <3

_Prelude_  
  
This is the story of Emhyr, Duny  
Monster-made through magic spree  
fled to the woods, hunted was he  
bound to flesh of needles  
  
In human form, each midnight ‘til noon  
he ventured north, ran under the moon  
in daylight re-lived his father’s doom  
seethed in flesh of needles  
  
This is the story of the lioness’ daughter,  
the child-surprise, promised by her father,  
to a cursed man, who waited years to honor  
the cruelty of destiny.  
  
  
I  
  
A shiver through the forest leaves, rustling  
with a curious thrill, from the gully deep within  
a helpless cry rose and fell, Duny ran to see therein  
a man, in his prime, from his horse had fell, yelling.  
  
It was not yet noon, hurriedly he climbed, bustling  
pulled under arms, dragged in fine leather jerkin  
to haul the man away from rats and vipers, his skin  
sleek with sweat of pain, his voice, cracked and thin.  
  
At the sight of his insignia, three golden lions sewn  
onto his mantle, Duny flinched; the man in his arms  
was Roegner of Ebbing; a thrill ran up his backbone.  
  
Fear not, said Duny, and displayed his state; unarmed.  
He fetched the horse after gently placing the man on a stone  
relieved to see the King of Cintra, exhausted but unharmed  
  
  
II  
  
Roegner of Ebbing, consort of the Lioness, praised  
the Gods, lifted his hands, tears welled in his eyes  
he groaned in pain; a foot sprained, it swelled in size.  
Patiently Duny waited, praying for appraise  
  
Observing him, ill at ease, eyes pained and glazed  
Roegner asked his name, title, had he any kin?  
Duny, Urcheon of Erlenwald, in truth he answered him.  
You claim no family? The king replied, amazed.  
  
How could Duny tell him of his fate? Of the hate  
that burned his chest each night, of the agony of claws,  
of breathing through cursed snout, of how each night, late  
  
in pain transforming to his human self; are there such laws  
capable of punishing such a deed that to him was made?  
In shame, he hid his arms; already did his fingers turn to paws.  
  
  
III  
  
Tell me of your price, said the King, benevolent Duny,  
anything within my power I will give, but what can  
a boy like you wish of me? Do you want gold, lands?  
Riches, a title, fame or glory? Anything I promise thee!  
  
For long Duny stood silent, gaze planted onto the leaves  
He did not know what spell came over him, the sands  
of the hourglass fell, he uttered the words of his demand:  
Without knowledge or expectation did you leave  
  
a possession of yours at home; that will be my reward  
In fifteen years I will return; leave now, Roegner of Ebbing,  
hastily he pulled his cloak over him. Go in peace, my lord.  
  
Warily, the king observed him, his mantled shoulders sloping  
returning to find that which now was Duny’s cruel award,  
he, whom the king left by the gully, hurting, wishing, hoping.  
  
  
IV  
  
A night later, in a tavern, Duny was there to hear  
the news of a child born of the Lioness, that she  
and her consort had welcomed a daughter, to be  
the first child of the couple, but not to the throne an heir  
  
Hands shaking, his heart raced, lungs short of air  
He refused the barmaids’ hand on his shoulder and  
ran outside into the cold air; his reward, not land  
not gold, but a girl, a child-surprise. He ran to his lair.  
  
Long he awaited, each noon ever transforming to  
that monstrous being he was made into. For long  
did he bide his time; for her who could make him anew.  
  
He lived the years after, time blurred like a hazy song,  
days of augmenting fear and swelling hate, come to  
nights, fearing the curse binding him would be life-long.  
  
  
_The Lioness’ daughter_  
  
I am Pavetta.  
I await my destiny.  
Mother cannot imprison me  
I await my destiny.  
My magic grows  
each night  
it will devour me.  
A fire rages in my blood,  
luminous, bright.  
I am Pavetta.  
I await my destiny.  
  
  
V  
  
Up the castle walls crept the ivy, cold was the stone  
against Duny’s paws, the hour was not yet struck; still he  
arrived, lurking, waiting; on the fourteenth year, after the  
demand for saving a life, from inside mellow tones  
  
reached his fur-covered ears, a voice unknown  
and yet known; heart soaring, he climbed further, to see  
the bearer of the silvery notes, that could make him free?  
she, with ashen hair - the sight caused a violent cyclone  
  
of emotion in his chest; she! surprised that the ground  
did not spurt flowers after her steps, he observed her, silent  
He followed the child with burning gaze, like a hungry hound.  
  
Slowly his heart sank at the sight, inside him he found  
a misery swelling like the tide, rushed and violent,  
once he lived like her; blessed, cosseted, and crowned.  
  
  
VI  
  
Slowly he descended the walls of his confinement  
to follow her, knowing what he did was wrong, that he  
would scare her, he; a monster, she, so carefree,  
a beauty rare and true, to dream of her consent  
  
to touch her hand; impossible! He could only lament  
his flesh of needles, hidden in armour, that would be  
transformed within an hour. From his chest a whine, she  
darted her gaze towards him. Oh, to endure the torment  
  
of her disgust! her hands holding primroses fell  
to her sides, who is there? she asked and he replied,  
Only a wanderer, drawn to your song, like a silver bell.  
  
Breathlessly, he recited the words of the tune, still in hide  
he recalled the next verse, while the air swelled  
with the scent of roses, the perfume of his coming bride.  
  
  
VII  
  
Silently she observed him, who stood in the shadows  
cloaking himself from her gaze, lest she run in fear.  
Did he dream? Did him eyes fool him? Or was there  
a smile playing on her lips? Her eyes like meadows,  
  
green like a moss-covered pond, he could not expose  
himself to her; yet he longed to whisper in her ear  
I am the one you have been waiting for, my dear.  
Do not fear me, let me close, close like the primrose  
  
you hold in your hand. ‘Tis a lovely song, said she  
and all the fear dissolved in Duny. Will you meet me here  
again, when midnight has struck? By the willow tree.  
  
And by the benevolent Sun, she agreed! An fanfare  
erupted in his chest, a whirlwind! He took his leave  
A last gaze on her ashen hair, her goodbye, like a prayer.  
  
  
_The child surprise_  
  
Swirling fear and curiosity; I had not  
known such mix of emotion, yet I  
could not gainsay it.  
  
For so long, knowing only  
lethargy, boredom, guarded by thick  
palace walls and my mother’s gaze.  
  
To enjoy the sweet spike of dread  
and surprise at his voice, spoken  
with such a gravely tone.  
  
He beseeched my approval for his presence.  
I do not know why I gave it. I wanted  
anything but that earlier existence of  
coddled observance.  
  
Soothed by his words; from the shadows  
he recited, word for word the verse  
I held so dear!  
  
My fear dissipated on an instant.  
Although he hid, not for me to see,  
to never meet him again became  
my only fear.  
I heeded the call of destiny.  
  
So turned my dull existence  
to one of mirth! And spiteful joy  
as I climbed out of my bed  
those nights I escaped for  
our meetings.  
  
Always at nights,  
after the midnight hour had  
struck; shrouded in his cloak  
we spoke, at first from a  
distance, at last close enough  
to touch.  
  
He spoke to me of tales of yore  
he knew every song and poem  
I loved. A sign! My heart sang.  
I took his hand; he recoiled at first,  
but soon dared the closeness  
that quenches thirst.  
My blood soared; eagerly I wished  
for him to be my first,  
my only one.  
  
Always after midnight did he seek my  
company. One night I slipped out  
an hour before that time had struck.  
  
Stepped lightly on grass colored  
by pale moonlight. He was there; I  
neared his beloved frame hooded by  
his cloak.  
  
He turned; what appeared  
was not his familiar visage, but a snout,  
coarse hair and sharp teeth in mouth  
I screamed, and he ran.  
  
  
VIII  
  
Oh, cursed night! Exposed at last, in fright  
Duny fled the grounds he previously blessed  
because of how the roses sprouted; now his chest  
burned from knowing her disgust - cursed light!  
  
That remained on the horizon; come midnight!  
Free me from these chains! then, from her chest  
a sound so dear - she was, as him, distressed!  
calling him to return to her, to cease his flight.  
  
Her tears did not flow from hate, but from fear  
of his departure, eagerly she called his name,  
his taken name, spoken by someone so dear  
  
He stilled, and let her approach, his shame  
burning. How far he was from being Emhyr.  
He waited, his self-loathing soaring like a flame.  
  
  
IX  
With trembling hands, soft as lilies, she lifted the veil  
that shrouded his face, inhaled, but did not recoil, not blink  
her face did not twist in disgust. Like the rose, a pink  
blush rose on her cheeks, she whispered, in an exhale  
  
“What have they done to you, my love?” The shale  
that enclosed Duny’s heart cracked, low did the pieces sink  
to uncover the raw mass within. He didn’t think  
but enclosed her in his arms, thus beginning their sad tale.  
  
In tears, she told him of the coming banquet, where she  
would be presented to her suitors. His heart, an abyss.  
She held him tighter, whispered, “make love to me.”  
  
He protested at first, not yet was it midnight, it could not be -  
She touched his face and silenced him with a kiss.  
To be touched so; he wasn’t strong enough not to agree.  
  
  
_Epilogue_  
  
Thus, a few months later, a banquet he came to  
claimed his right from the Lioness, which he turned to  
unbeknownst that under the heart of Pavetta grew  
another child-surprise.  
  
Saved from certain doom by a witchers’ sword  
after the flesh in needles was exposed, abhorred  
by all but her, she whose magical scream soared  
high under the ceiling.  
  
Removed was the curse, through Pavetta’s hand given  
with human nose could he breathe the airs of heaven  
Thus in the history books was their story written  
and a lion cub was born  
  
The skies wept when Pavetta died, swallowed by the sea  
That day Emhyr ceased to call himself Duny.  
The sacrifice to reclaim his empire, the world, was she  
Such is the cruelty  
of destiny.  
  



End file.
